


Coffee, or Death

by jstabe



Series: Clint Barton Bingo 2019 [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Clint Barton Needs a Hug, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 18:50:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21202391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jstabe/pseuds/jstabe
Summary: Clint doesn't need medical. Clint needs coffee. STAT.





	Coffee, or Death

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Clint Barton Bingo square "This isn't coffee..."

Clint stumbles out of the elevator and onto the communal floor, makes a beeline toward the kitchen area for a much-needed cup of coffee. The mission hadn't been terrible, but he'd gotten knocked around a bit and his head is killing him. A shower had cleared the fog somewhat and caffeine will do the rest. He's nearly there when Steve appears out of nowhere (Clint doesn’t know how that's possible given the man's size, but he does it a lot) and Clint smacks right up against him. He groans and lets his forehead slump forward against Steve's shoulder. 

"Coffee." 

Steve snorts, big hands coming up to frame Clint's face and gently tip his head up. Sharp blue eyes catalog the beginnings of a black eye, the bruised cheek before locking back onto Clint's eyes. Clint lowers them, shuffles his feet. 

"Clint." 

Clint's head snaps up at the tone, and he has to swallow back nausea at the sudden movement. "I'm fine!" 

Steve sighs, turns Clint to steer him towards the living area. "You're looking awfully green for a guy who is fine." 

Clint sulks his way over to one of the couches. "I might have a teeny tiny little concussion. Miniscule even." 

"Uh huh. I'm guessing you skipped medical." 

Clint waves the thought away as he sits down on the comfiest couch. "Didn't need it. Had concussions before. Nothing they can do anyway." 

Another Steve-sigh, probably because Clint is right, and he knows it. Rest and pain meds are SOP for this kind of thing, and Clint can do all of that without going to medical. He hates that floor of the Tower. Clint slumps against the back of the couch, eyes closing. He hears the elevator open again and Tony greeting Steve. Good. Maybe Tony will keep Steve distracted enough that Steve won't be worrying about Clint. 

He feels fingers card gently through his hair, and it makes him smile. He doesn't open his eyes, just tips his head into Steve's hand. "Coffee. Pleeeaaase, Steve." 

"Alright, fine. You win." 

Hell, yes, he does. He lets himself doze, though it's fitful. He's cold, shaking a bit. There are throws on the back of the couch, but he's too lazy to move right now. The coffee will warm him up when Steve brings it to him. 

Before long, he hears movement, smells the heavenly scent of coffee. He keeps his eyes closed against the bright sunlight filtering through the floor to ceiling windows, makes grabby hands in the direction of the smell. Steve laughs and a warm hand catches one of his flailing ones. 

"No way. I give you coffee now and you'll be wearing it." Steve laughs again at the noise Clint makes. "Come on and sit up for me, sweetheart." 

Clint is up and off the couch before his brain really processes it. Dizziness hits, and he sways alarmingly before Tony reaches out and steadies him. Clint opens his eyes, looks down at himself as his hands pat frantically at his own body. Finally, he gives a sigh of relief. 

"Okay, I have pants on. That's good." 

A muffled snort of laughter has him glancing at Tony, who is still holding him steady. "You're on the communal floor. Why would you not have pants on?" 

"Got confused." Clint blinks against the light of the room, trying to focus. "Steve only calls me sweetheart when he's fuc…" 

"Okay!" Steve interrupts. "I think we get the point." 

"Oh no way," Tony says. "I need to hear more of this." He nudges Clint with his shoulder, making Clint stumble a bit until Tony wraps an arm around his waist to hold him up. "Robin isn't usually this forthcoming. I think we need to have a nice, long chat." 

Steve shoots a glare at Tony. "You're not taking advantage of him when he's concussed, Tony." 

Clint frowns at that. "Does that mean he can take advantage of me when I'm not concussed?" 

Tony starts laughing. Steve just gives up and reaches for one of the mugs he'd put on an end table. "Here, come sit down and have your coffee." 

Clint's a little confused, but he just shrugs and does as he's told. Steve sits next to him with his own mug, Tony sprawling on the love seat across from them. Clint wraps his hands around the mug, breathes in the wonderful aroma. He already feels better, just knowing what's coming. He doesn't bother to blow on the hot beverage, just takes a long slurp. He goes rigid before spitting the mouthful back into the mug and struggling to his feet. 

"What the hell is this?" 

Steve's looking at him, alarmed. "It's coffee, Clint." 

"Uh, no. No, it is not. I've been drinking coffee since I was five, Steve. I've had a million cups in my life. I've had shitty S.H.I.E.L.D. breakroom coffee, and the ambrosia that is real Brazilian coffee. Hell, I've even had coffee in Columbia. I mean, it was to go, but still." 

"What do you mean it was to go?" Tony asks. 

"Nat and I were running from a cartel. Had to grab and go." Tony laughs and Clint shoots him a little smile before he turns a glare on Steve. "My point is _this_ is not coffee." 

Steve rubs a hand across the back of his neck. "It's decaf." 

Clint's jaw drops and he shoots Steve the look he usually saves for HYDRA agents and late pizza delivery people. "I don't even know what to say to you right now." He's been fooled into tasting decaf coffee. It's an abomination. "I think we have to get divorced." 

"We're not married," Steve says carefully, like Clint's forgotten that somehow. 

"And we never will be if you break my heart again with fake fucking coffee." 

He sets the mug on the table, swaying with dizziness as he bends over. He'd go make his own damn coffee, but he'd either fall over on the way to the kitchen or puke and neither option seems fun. He settles for crawling onto the loveseat and sprawling over Tony. Tony gives a surprised grumble before his hand settles on Clint's back for a soothing rub. Clint melts onto him, nose pressed into the crook of Tony's neck. 

"Decaf, Tony. I've been betrayed." 

Tony's laugh is a quiet huff. "To be fair, I don't think you're supposed to have caffeine when you're concussed." 

"'m a superhero. Normal rules don't apply." 

"Clint." 

Steve sounds sad, and Clint presses closer to Tony. He hates seeing Steve sad, but decaf coffee! That can't be forgiven easily. Finally, he hears Steve stand up. 

"Fine, I'll make you a fresh cup of the real stuff." 

Clint turns his head to beam at Steve. "Thanks, babe." 

Steve stops to run his fingers through Clint's hair before he disappears into the kitchen. Clint snuggles into Tony, sliding down a little and scrunching up to make himself fit. Tony pulls a throw from the back of the couch and wraps Clint up. Clint makes a contented sound, eyes drifting closed as Tony resumes rubbing his back. 

"You're surprisingly tactile for a wild Hawkeye. I never knew you were a cuddler, Barton." 

"Only cuddle Tasha and Steve." He pats Tony's chest. "You're not so bad at this." 

"Gee, thanks." 

Tony is obviously amused, so Clint doesn't feel bad. He pats Tony's chest again, sighs heavily. "I wish Nat was here. You're great, but Nat's got better boobs." 

"I'm sure she'd be glad to hear it." 

Clint grunts, wiggles further under the blanket. He's feeling warm and surprisingly comfortable even without his super soldier boyfriend as a pillow. 

"You know, I'm curious about something." 

Clint’s not surprised. Tony is always curious about something. 

"How is that you get to nap on the perfection that is Natasha Romanoff's boobs and anyone else would get stabbed for even thinking about it?" 

"Nat's my best friend." Clint is definitely smug about that. Natasha is the best. "And 'm gay. My dick doesn't care about her boobs." 

Tony's laughing hard enough that he's jostling Clint's very comfy perch. He smacks irritably at the genius masquerading as a body pillow. 

"Stop moving or I'm going to throw up on you." 

"You're very demanding and a terrible nap buddy." 

Clint rolls his eyes, knows Tony is full of shit. He could move Clint if he really wanted to. Clint hopes he doesn’t want to. He’s uncaffeinated but cozy. He could get used to this. He hears Tony ask J.A.R.V.I.S. to dim the lights and he makes a happy little sound. If he feels like opening his eyes, he can do it without frying his brain. Tony really is a good friend. He says as much and Tony pets him some more. 

"If we're friends and cuddle buddies, Barton, I feel like we should know one another better," Tony says. 

"We already talked about this, Tony," Steve calls in from the kitchen. 

"Don't worry, Cap, I'm not going to ask him his favorite sexual position or anything." 

"On my knees," Clint slurs into Tony's chest. "Ass in the air. I like it deep." 

Steve's groan is pained. Clint figures it's those weird old man sensibilities Steve has sometimes. He'll screw Clint in every way imaginable, but he doesn't like to talk about it. It doesn't make any sense to Clint. He grew up in a circus; privacy wasn't really a thing, and sex wasn't something to get embarrassed about anyway. 

"You don't like it face to face?" 

Tony's probably just winding Steve up now, but Clint answers anyway. "No, 's good. Just more intimate. Never used to do it that way." Not until Steve, but that Clint will keep to himself. Sex he'll talk about forever, but feelings are hard. 

Tony makes a considering noise and pets Clint's hair. "We all know your favorite color and food. How about your favorite superhero?" 

"Wonder Woman," Clint says with no hesitation. 

Tony bursts out laughing. "Wow, you didn't even stop and think about saying your boyfriend. That's just mean." 

Clint shrugs. "Wonder Woman is a bad ass. I wouldn't want to go up against her. Especially that lasso thing." 

"Doesn't that make you tell the truth or something?" 

"Yep." 

" And you find that worse than the guns and alien shit we've gone up against?" 

"Spy. Truth is my kryptonite." 

Tony is laughing again, and Clint feels kind of pleased about it. He doesn't think he's ever heard so much genuine laughter from Tony. Maybe this bonding thing is a good idea. 

"You really are good at this. My head isn't hurting so much." 

Gentle fingers slide down behind his ear, and it's weird to know it's Stark touching him this carefully. It's nice though, and Clint finds himself saying it before he can stop himself. 

"Yeah? I can't say I hate this little development. I guess none of us got the right amount of good touch as kids." 

Clint makes a little noise. "Mm, yeah. Got hit a lot as a kid. Get hit a lot as a 'Venger. Nice to get touched without it hurting." 

He feels Tony tense underneath him and whines softly. He doesn't want Tony to stop touching him, but he had managed to get feelings out after all. Damn it. Those things are the worst. Tony doesn't stop, though, just pulls Clint a little closer before he starts rubbing his back. 

"Well, maybe we'll make this a thing. Minus the concussion." 

Clint snickers. "Just a big old snuggle fest post missions?" 

"Sure, why not?" 

Steve rejoins them, setting a fresh mug on the table between the sofas. Clint makes a sad little sound because coffee. But he's going to have to uncurl from Tony and sit up. Tony seems to understand his predicament. 

"This has been fun, Katniss, and we'll definitely do it again, but I should head down to the lab. The suit has some minor damage I want to check out." 

Clint grumbles but lets Tony transfer him to Steve, which basically just involves Steve picking up a blanket burritoed Clint and moving them to the couch. Steve settles Clint between his thighs and Clint leans back against his chest. He makes grabby hands at the mug. Steve laughs and sits up enough to grab it and hand it to Clint before he leans back against the arm rest. 

Clint slurps down half the cup in one go. Once the caffeine hits, he slumps back against Steve, content to sip at the rest of his drink. Steve is running his fingertips along the sensitive inside of Clint's arm, where his bracer usually covers. It's intimate and soft in a way that always makes Clint melt. He turns his head and kisses Steve's cheek. 

"Thank you for the coffee." 

Steve smiles and kisses the corner of Clint's mouth. "Does this mean I'm forgiven for the decaf?" 

"Your heart was in the right place." He gives Steve a little glare. "But don’t do it again." 

Steve laughs, and hugs Clint, careful of the cup Clint hasn't quite drained yet. "I promise. I'll never mess with your coffee again." 

Clint finishes his drink, sets the cup on the table and turns until he can sprawl across Steve and cuddle his super soldier more comfortably. Steve kisses the top of his head and it's just so _Steve_ that Clint gets all warm in his chest. He could blame it on the coffee, but he doesn't like lying to himself. He kisses Steve's chest, just over his heart and tries to ignore the fact that it probably makes him as sappy as his boyfriend. He's dozing, Steve's fingers running gently through his hair, when a random thought makes him poke at Steve's ribs. 

"Tony didn't ask me my favorite Avenger." 

"He didn't, did he?" 

"Nope. Want to ask me?" 

"Who is your favorite Avenger, Clint?" 

Steve sounds amused; Clint pokes his ribs again. 

"Black Widow." 

It takes a beat before Steve is laughing, digging his fingers into Clint's ribs and making him shriek. He tries to wiggle away, but he's still wrapped in the blanket and he only manages to shove himself off of Steve and onto the floor. Steve follows him down, cradling Clint's head in those big hands. 

"Shit, I'm sorry, sweetheart." 

"No, I'm good, I swear. My head doesn't even hurt anymore." 

He squirms under Steve until he gets the blanket away enough that he can spread his legs and let Steve settle between them. Steve grins down at him, lowers his head for a kiss. Clint tangles his fingers in Steve's hair, kisses back enthusiastically. When they finally break apart, Clint's breathing is heavy, and Steve's cock is a hard line against his. Clint nips at Steve's bottom lip. 

"What would you say to a post mission nap?" 

"A nap, huh?" Steve rolls his hips slowly against Clint's. "Just a nap." 

"Sure." Clint cracks up at the look on Steve's face. "A nice, long nap after you fuck me." 

"Now you're talking." 

Steve rolls gracefully to his feet and Clint's cock jerks in jeans. God damn that is one fine looking man, and he's all Clint's. He holds out a hand for Steve to pull him up, but Steve bends down and scoops Clint up, bridal style. Clint makes an outraged noise, but Steve kisses him slow and deep until Clint is putty in his hands. 

"You're such a cheater, Rogers." 

"You love me anyway." 

Clint grins, buries his face in Steve's shoulders. He does, is the thing. He's so gone on Steve that he can't even be mad about the indignity of being carried through the tower like a damsel. He nuzzles Steve's throat and decides fuck it. He's just going to enjoy the ride.


End file.
